Fun, Friendly Family Dinners
by eyesocketsandsuits
Summary: [[ Italy Bros Oneshots ]] Veneziano didn't answer, but he slid the peppers across the island, and Romano barely got his hand out fast enough to stop them from falling from the floor. The temperature in the kitchen dropped ten degrees, and Germany cleared his throat.
1. Fun, Friendly Family Dinners

**From a prompt talking about family traditions.**

* * *

Germany cleared his throat. "Perhaps my brother and I should make dinner."

Veneziano blinked, then grinned. "No, this is my brother's and my house! You're our guest, we can't just have you cook for us, that's just rude. Besides, you guys visit our house for our cuisine—it wouldn't be very fun if _you_ cooked for _us_."

Prussia clapped Germany on the back. "Yeah! I can't remember the last time we call got together. Relax, West."

Germany glanced between Romano and Veneziano. "I… suppose."

Romano rolled his eyes, already washing his hands. "Don't make it sound like we're pulling teeth."

The kitchen, Germany observed, was spacious. Plenty of counter space. More than the last house. He sat next to Prussia at the island counter. Double stove, a bath of a sink. It would be fine.

Veneziano danced in front of them, clapped his hands together. "Alright, what are we in the mood for, gentlemen? From the master of Italian cooking—and Romano!" He laughed. "Fully stocked fridge, at your command."

Germany glanced at Prussia.

"Seafood," Prussia decided. "We don't have anything good at our place that has fish in it."

Veneziano nodded. "Ah, good choice. Romano, what do you think? Swordfish? Cioppino? Some vegetables? I think we have something for peppers." Veneziano skipped over to the fridge.

"Wow, you really gave me the option for some input." Romano crossed his arms. "Apparently," he said, turning to Germany and Prussia, "you're having swordfish and cioppino."

"We have everything for those dishes, Romano," Veneziano said over his shoulder.

"We could do something other than the stew. I want the swordfish—I'm the one who suggested buying it." Romano began to pull a pan out, a large pot. "What are we doing with the peppers? Stuffing them?"

"That's a lot of work." Veneziano laid out the food on the island. "Why not just grill them quickly?"

"Why do swordfish?" Romano shot back.

Veneziano didn't answer, but he slid the peppers across the island, and Romano barely got his hand out fast enough to stop them from falling from the floor. The temperature in the kitchen dropped ten degrees, and Germany cleared his throat.

"Dessert?"

Romano and Veneziano turned to him quickly. Veneziano smiled.

"A pastry, maybe?"

"Why not a fruit dish?" Romano asked.

"Because the fish will be light enough for the second course so they can have something heavy for dessert." Veneziano hadn't looked away from Germany. "How about a spin on tiramisu?"

Romano glared at Germany. Prussia nodded, slowly.

"Whatever you guys want."

Romano grunted. "Veneziano, you can do that, then." He took the peppers out of the bag and began to chop them. "You want to get started on that cioppino? You always take too long with the spices."

"That's because I care about how it tastes," Veneziano said brightly, chopping onions.

"Are you just going to throw the whole onion in the pan?"

"Sorry, did you want to chop them?" Veneziano offered the knife, and Germany and Prussia flinched back. "Because I'd be happy to stuff the peppers you insisted on."

"So," Prussia said loudly, "is there anything West can do to help?"

" _No_ ," Veneziano and Romano said.

Prussia held up his hands.

Veneziano set a pan on the stove, threw the onions in. "Did you buy garlic?"

"We have some." Romano was digging through a cabinet for a cooking sheet.

"Why didn't you buy cloves? You know the ones that come from the box taste funny." Veneziano had found the garlic, and he clicked his tongue. "Well, I'm sure Germany and Prussia won't mind." He pulled out a wine.

"You're complaining about boxed garlic and you're using the _cooking_ wine?" Romano abandoned the peppers, reached by Veneziano to grab another bottle. "Use this one."

"It burns off, Romano. We did a taste test."

"Yes, and I could figure out which one was cooked with the shit wine." Romano tried to put the wine in Veneziano's hands, but he refused to take it.

"You _guessed_."

The brothers stared at one another for a long moment. Slowly, so slowly, Veneziano replaced the cooking wine and took Romano's.

"Do you two cook together often?" Germany blurted when the silence became to uncomfortable.

Veneziano glanced up from the shrimp. "Oh, not too often. I think the last time was—"

"1994." Romano put the pan of peppers into the oven. "We don't talk about it."

Prussia frowned. "What happened?"

Veneziano shrugged, gave a weak smile. "We don't talk about it." He moved to a cabinet and opened it to reveal shelves full of spices.

Romano whipped around. "I'm not doing this again."

"Do you want to flavor it with bitterness?" Veneziano asked lightly.

"Just _pick_. Don't take samples, don't compare them, don't call France to ask what's better—pick the spices and get going on the broth."

Veneziano sighed deeply. "Romano—"

"Don't _Romano_ me."

"Look, just because you only believe in salt and pepper doesn't mean you can stop the rest of us from seasoning." Veneziano picked a spice. "Try to have fun."

" _Fun_?!" Romano laughed.

Veneziano turned. "Yes! Fun! We're cooking for fun! If I want to season the broth with ten spices, I _can_ , because it's supposed to be fun!"

"I'm _having_ fun!"

"Then let me spice!"

Germany cleared his throat. The brothers jumped and turned. Veneziano smiled and gave a little laugh, and Romano just crossed his arms.

"Ha, sorry about that!" Veneziano turned and grabbed another few spices. "Romano forgets that family has to share the kitchen!"

"Veneziano forgets that you don't need to overload food with seasoning for it to taste good."

Veneziano turned and threw the spice bottle. It bounced off of Romano's shoulder and hit the ground with a plastic _thunk_. Romano slowly turned, looked at Veneziano, at the spice bottle.

"You little shit."

"Oops."

"Oops my _ass_ ," Romano snarled. "Get out of the kitchen."

Veneziano frowned. "You can't kick me out of our kitchen."

"I just did." Romano put his hands on his hips. "I'm the eldest."

Germany felt he had to interject. "That doesn't really say anything."

Both Prussia and Romano glared at him.

"We're closer north than we are south," Veneziano countered. "I kick _you_ out." His cheeks were flushed.

Romano reached blindly for the counter and threw the first thing his hand found. A shrimp bounced off Veneziano's head.

" _Romano_!"

"You fucking started it!"

"I didn't throw a fish at you!"

"A shrimp isn't a fish, stupid!"

A headache pounded against Germany's temples. "Enough."

 **…**

The doorbell rang. Romano answered it.

"You ordered a pizza?"

"Fuck you." He threw the money, grabbed the box, and slammed the door shut.


	2. Pythagoreans

Lovino stared at his phone as the timer ticked down. Why would this stupid game ask him for anti-Galileo? He's not the important one, God damn it.

"Feliciano," he called when the backdoor opened, "who was anti-Galileo? Feliciano…" Lovino blinked. "Why are you wearing a scarf?"

"Hm?" Feliciano asked, placing the groceries on the counter.

"It's like, sixty out. It's way too warm for a scarf." He sat up from the couch.

"Oh, well, I think it goes well with this outfit. Don't you think?" Feliciano tugged at his shirt absent-mindedly. "Plus, I want to wear it one last time before spring."

Lovino squinted. "Mhm."

Feliciano glanced up, eyes wide. "What?"

"That's some fucking bullshit." Lovino smirked. "What's this one's name?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, _but_ I did get some of that cheese you like. I was thinking that we could maybe make something fancy for dinner, because I had some extra cash and I splurged a little bit and wouldn't Grandpa like something fancy?"

"You never have extra cash. Someone split the bill with you."

"Maybe I _did_ have some extra cash," Feliciano said brightly. "Either way, we need to make a big meal."

"Mhm."

Feliciano smiled. "Drop it, please."

Lovino held up his hands, a habit he had unwillingly picked up from Antonio. "I'm just saying, whenever you start banging someone new, you always have a fuck ton of hickeys."

"I forgot you don't get hickeys, Lovino."

"Not since I was like, sixteen."

Feliciano pulled out the bread—violently. He knew Lovino hated when the bread was squished.

"Oh my gosh!" Lovino said loudly. "Feliciano, what happened to your neck?!"

Feliciano made a face, confused. And then he heard Grandpa's heavy footsteps. His face twisted through a few emotions, but he managed to shoot a glare at Lovino before his face settled into an innocent mask.

Grandpa Julius marched into the kitchen. "What's this I'm hearing about necks?"

Feliciano smiled and patted Grandpa on the arm. "Nothing, Grandpa! Look, I had some extra cash left over, so I think Lovino and me are going to make a big dinner, doesn't that sound nice, Grandpa?"

"I think Feliciano got in a fight," Lovino muttered.

Feliciano looked at him, then switched his attention back to Grandpa. "I also got some stain remover for your car."

Lovino nearly threw his phone across the room. " _Feliciano_!"

"Are there stains in my car?"

" _No_ ," Lovino snapped. He hauled himself off the couch and marched over to Feliciano, gripped his arm, and led him away. "Feliciano, can I talk to you in the other room?"

"Sure!"

Lovino pushed him into the dining room. "Okay, the car thing was literally _years_ ago," he hissed. "That was just—" He struggled for the word. "Low."

Feliciano shrugged. "I told you to leave it alone." He played absently with his scarf. "At least I can get my boyfriends to use a condom."

"He _did_ use a condom, it just spilled everywhere, okay?!"

"You think he would have been a little more careful, considering you were in the back of a 1955 Ferrari 750 Monza Spider."

Lovino glanced over his shoulder, praying Grandpa was still putting away the groceries. "Look, am I saying it was the best place for sex? No. Am I saying that he should have kept it in his pants? For fucking sure. But I replaced the leather, and all is well."

Feliciano grinned, and Lovino felt his face heat up. Because he sure as _fuck_ hadn't had the funds at sixteen to replace the leader—they both knew that much.

Lovino watched as Feliciano began to walk by him, panicking, because Feliciano was _not_ having the last word.

"Speaking of condoms, at least I never had chlamydia."

Feliciano whirled around. "I did _not_ have chlamydia!"

"Bull shit!"

From the other room, Grandpa called: "Language, Lovino!"

"They gave you antibiotics!"

"It was a urinary tract infection!"

"We both saw your dick, and no urinary tract infection makes your dick look like _that_." Lovino crossed his arms. "Face it: I have way more dirt on you than you have on me."

Feliciano's cheeks were getting red. "At least I never crashed my car while I was getting a blowjob."

Lovino pointed. "You admit you've had a blowjob while driving, though!"

"No! And even if I _had_ —no, I would never get a blowjob when I was driving, because that's just dangerous and that's how stupid people crash their cars! What is it with Antonio and cars?"

Lovino opened his mouth, but Feliciano cut him to the chase.

"And I've never had a boyfriend who broke the law! Ha!"

"Look, I'm twenty-three and he's twenty-eight now, it—"

"You were fifteen!"

"It," Lovino said, talking over Feliciano, "doesn't matter now! At least I've never stolen a fucking car!"

"Oh, no, you never _stole_ it, but you were sitting next to me as I drove it down the street! And you were there when we ran away from the cops, too. And we both lied and said we were studying and our car broke down and then we _both_ snuck out to destroy your engine before Grandpa could check."

Lovino shook his head. "Nope, nope, it was your idea, and you were the one who knew how to do all that shit with the wires."

"Yeah, well, uh, you tried cocaine! And you hit that guy!"

"I was drunk!"

Feliciano shrugged. "Didn't stop Grandpa from almost sending you to military school."

"No, you know what, that's what the most fucking annoying. Everyone thinks you've never done anything wrong, and they think I'm the fucked up Vargas, when you're just as screwed up as I am!"

Feliciano opened his mouth and shut it, just as quickly. Lovino panicked, wondering if he had said something wrong, because now the fight had flown right out of Feliciano. Lovino clenched his hands.

"Lovino," Feliciano said softly, "I don't think you're more screwed up than me."

"Well—well good!" Lovino said loudly, still arguing. "Because I'm not!"

Feliciano laughed. "I know!"

"Good!" Lovino nodded. "I really hope Grandpa didn't hear any of that."

The color drained out of Feliciano's face.


End file.
